


A Dream of Our Choosing

by Babble



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Afterlife, Coldharbour (Elder Scrolls), Drama & Romance, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Love, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29405568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babble/pseuds/Babble
Summary: No one ever said being dead would be easy - but if anyone can thrive in Molag Bal's realm of Coldharbour, it's Teldryn Sero, the greatest swordsman in all of Morrowind! It's the Dunmer way not only to adapt to one's circumstances, but to master them; with Serana at his side, it is within his grasp to build a pleasant life in this plane of misery. But just when the pair finally begin to feel settled in their dark new world, a new power surfaces to threaten their fragile happiness and tear them apart forever.
Relationships: Serana/Teldryn Sero
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	1. Love in the Time of Daedra

**Author's Note:**

> This work takes place after the events of my story "The Death of the Dragonborn", and contains major spoilers for that story, if you care about that sort of thing. Although it can be read completely standalone, too. Please comment if you enjoy!

"No basis of comparison, truly," Teldryn Sero mused, looking up into the sickly purple sky. "That's our dilemma. Who is to say Coldharbour is the worst realm in which to wither away one's afterlife? I've never been to another plane of Oblivion."

"Soul Cairn. Don't forget about the Soul Cairn." Serana leaned her shoulder against his. They sat on the edge of a vast floating island, looking down on a dismal landscape of sludge and ruin. Dead trees occasionally sprouted up from the lifeless soil, their craggy branches reaching up in desperation, like the hands of children sinking into the depths of a bottomless sea. "We spent a few hours or so in there, remember?"

"Ah, yes. Well, I'm confident in declaring that I would _not_ rather be in the Soul Cairn right now."

She grinned. "Hmm. You might be on to something. If I had to choose...yeah, I'd pick Coldharbour over the Cairn any day."

"Marvelous. You see, dear? If we just imagine how those poor soul-trapped wretches are faring right now...no floating islands, no Argonian villages to visit. No...trees." _A generous description._

"No Daedric libraries to raid," Serana added. "No netch. No guars!"

"The guars, of course, how could I forget the guars?" He fell on to his back, pulling a chuckling Serana with him. Blue lichen tickled the back of his neck; Teldryn found he didn't mind it as much as he used to. "To be plain with you, Serana, without the guars I would have gone mad ages ago. They're really the only light in this everlasting gloom."

"The _only_ light?" She raised her brow and rested a hand on his chest.

"I can't think of anything else."

"You pitiful man. I'm sure you'd rather be laying here with a guar right now, wouldn't you?"

"Don't make me choose, dear." Teldryn fought to keep the smile from his face. "That would only end poorly for both of us."

Her laughter ended too soon. "I've been thinking. One thing about the Soul Cairn...at least I'd be able to see mother. I can't imagine what it must be like for her, being the only survivor of our family."

"Aye. I'm sorry for that, truly I am." He pulled Serana closer. "I would have liked the chance to get to know Valerica better. We were getting along famously in the brief time we shared. In the moments without the Daedric Princes and Brotherhood assassins."

"You'll get to, someday." She sighed against his side. "All vampires are destined to end up in this place, and no one un-lives forever."

"A truth we know all too well." It was difficult to maintain the levity in his words. Sometimes, when Teldryn closed his eyes, he could still see the blue flames rushing towards them...it had been a quick death, but not an entirely peaceful one. "My father, in Blacklight...I wonder if he even knows what's happened to me."

"I'm sure the Dragonborn would have sent word. Or Runa."

"You're right." Assuming that they both had even survived the climactic battle on the Throat of the World. Of what had transpired after their deaths in the flames of Merkoorzaam, the two dead vampires knew nothing. _We have to believe our sacrifice was not in vain. Or else we'll truly be lost to Coldharbour._ It troubled him that he was too afraid to even give this thought voice. "Of course you're right. Let's start back home, dear. I'm feeling rather cold all of a sudden."

A strange combination of humility and relief had washed over Teldryn in their first days, when he'd learned that Molag Bal would not be personally attending to their eternal torture. Apparently the Prince of Domination had a lot on his agenda, and tormenting two vampires that had been kicked off the mortal plane was not high on his list of priorities. So had they been told by a droll Dremora they had cornered in one of the doom spires and showered with questions. No, the Prince was not interested in two miserable twice-dead bloodsuckers, there were much more promising souls around to abuse, and could they please get out of his way? There was a lot of pain to inflict, and he was behind schedule. _I suppose Bal has already taken what pleasures he could from the both of us._

Unlike the poor Soul-Shriven, who were subjected to eternal torment by the servants of Molag Bal only to be killed and resurrected again, vampires had a surprising amount of mobility in the dreadful plane. A mildly horrified part of Teldryn wondered if this was because he and Serana lacked souls to torture; they had sworn their lives away long before they'd arrived in Coldharbour. Or perhaps they were expected to participate in the misery of the Soul-Shriven; certainly he and Serana witnessed others of their kind performing a myriad of atrocities on the helpless denizens of Coldharbour. No one here seemed particularly interested in merely existing without playing the role of tormenter or tormented. That had made it far easier to find a relatively cozy place to call home.

Serana told him that Coldharbour was created in the image of Nirn; a mocking replica of the mortal world, mostly situated around the area of central Cyrodiil. Even he recognized the horrific replica of the White-Gold Tower reaching up into the gloomy sky. Teldryn was otherwise unfamiliar with the heartlands, as was Serana, so it was impossible to judge the accuracy of Bal's recreation: it was all just Oblivion to them.

"Home sweet home," Serana remarked when they'd reached the top of the hill. A squat lichen-covered tower greeted them, constructed of dark bricks that often reminded Teldryn of the district in Blacklight he'd lived in as a child. "Just as we left it."

When they'd first come to this particular floating island, a pack of banekin had been the sole residents; they delighted in shooting down bolts of lightning at the pitiful Soul-Shriven roaming beneath. Teldryn fondly remembered tossing the last of those Daedric vermin off the edge to make a satisfying splash in the sludge far below. That was the way of things in Coldharbour. The strong took from the weak. Playing a part in Molag Bal's treasured hierarchy had been a tad upsetting, but it wasn't as if the banekin hadn't deserved their fate. Months of cleaning out the mess they'd left in the tower had well excised any pity he might have felt for them.

They ambled up the front steps, in no particular hurry, and fell into the main chamber with a lazy familiarity. Teldryn sat in his customary place, in a tall chair before the hearth. It was built into the eastern wall and burned merrily with azure flames that produced no more heat than a candle. The light cast strange shadows on the shelf-covered walls behind him. They were covered with countless jars of alchemical ingredients as well as tomes stolen from the many libraries of Coldharbour. Mostly self-aggrandizing drivel and shallow propaganda: the universe, according to Molag Bal. But there were a few good books in there that had slipped through the cracks. He particularly enjoyed the poems of a romantic-minded Argonian from the nearby village of Haj Uxith, who described sunrises with remarkable vividness for a lizard that had never beheld a dawn in all his life.

Serana curled up on the tattered loveseat beside him, one of Wanders-Lonely's latest works in her hands. Teldryn lit his kreshweed pipe, blowing small circles of blue smoke towards the happily pointless hearth. _Well, it does provide some illumination at the least._

Teldryn leaned back and sighed contently. "Read to me, darling."

"Ahh, listen to this: _as the sludge softens the ground | My own heart softens in sympathy | I stand in stillness on a plane of ruin | And hear the music of frigid engines | Once again I see the ruined forest | But now with older eyes | Oft has their beauty brought me strength on nights | Filled with naught but gloom and worry._ "

"I'm glad someone likes the trees." He gazed into the flames. "Maybe we can learn a thing or two from those mad Argonians out there."

"You think?" She smiled at him, her pale face shining in the firelight.

"I love you, Serana."

"I love - um, Teldryn. You're fading away."

"You can dispense with the poetry, dear. Just say 'I love you too, handsome.' Really stroke my ego. I'm in that kind of mood."

"No, idiot, I mean you're disappearing right in front of me! I can see the chair through your chest!" She shot up from her seat, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

"Azura preserve me, you're vanishing too." Serana was growing more translucent by the second. He reached for her hands, but his own fingers passed through as if she wasn't there. "Is this Bal? Tell me, damn it; has he finally come for us?"

"I - I don't know!" Her voice sounded farther away.

The tower was fading by degrees, the solid shapes around him growing more and more indistinct. Blue flames succumbed to darkness. Cords of terror wrapped around Teldryn's heart. He raised his hands to his face, but saw nothing; all was darkness. Even his own thoughts were being lost to the miasma of oblivion. "Serana? Serana!"


	2. Time's Ritual

The return to existence; an ascent from fathomless depths. Teldryn climbed, climbed, climbed, until he became aware of a light in the immeasurable distance. Without thought he swam towards it, like a mindless insect drawn to warmth. The light materialized as he neared it: it took the shape of a small flame, the wisp of fire at the end of a candle. _Candle. Candle._ He knew what those were - he knew what _he_ was - Teldryn Sero. A Dunmer - a vampire - a dead mer.

His candle did not stand alone. It was one part of a legion of its kind, surrounding him in a perfect circle. He stood in the center, his feet resting on a Daedric sigil - and beside him - _and beside him_

"Serana," he exclaimed, reaching out to her. She faced away, her shoulders stiff, and at first Teldryn could not understand why she failed to respond to his touch. Then he looked past her shoulder.

"Teldryn?" The voice of a young woman; a voice that stirred astonished recognition. "By Magnus' Eye, is it truly you?"

Runa Fair-Shield knelt before the summoning circle, surrounded by various powders and scorched pieces of meat. Her eyes beneath the mage's hood were clouded and milky, like molten moonstone simmering in a blacksmith's cauldron.

Like Serana, Teldryn froze. They stared at the blind ghost of their oh-so-distant past, a memory of the time when they had been no less dead but so much closer to life.

"I...I heard you." Runa buried her face in her hands. Her breaths came faster and faster. "I swore I heard you. I'm...I'm losing my mind. Must have done it wrong again, I'm so stupid..."

"Runa," Serana spoke, her voice soft as wisp wrappings. "You're not crazy. It's us, Runa. Whatever you were trying to do...I think it worked."

Runa looked up slowly, still gripping her head as if afraid it would fall off. "You're not real. How can you be real?"

Teldryn brushed past Serana and approached Runa in small steps. "A mage. Just like your handsome uncle. I suppose I must have put some mad ideas in your head, little scrib. Summoned too many flame atronachs around old Lakeview."

"Teldryn," Runa cried, and jumped up to embrace him. He gasped at her warmth; it was like nothing he'd felt in such a long time. "You're so...cold."

"Well, I'm sure you know where we came from. But where are we now, precisely?"

Serana chimed in, "The Atronach Forge, I'm guessing. I've never been here myself, but I've heard of it. Under the College of Winterhold. Is grouchy old Urag still tending the bookshelves?"

"Oh, I missed you!" Runa ran towards Serana's voice and hugged the vampire tight. Serana let out a puff of breath, laughed softly, and pressed a kiss to Runa's forehead.

 _Winterhold_. Teldryn made an appreciate sound. "A college girl, eh? I was trained at a Telvanni Enclave in Blacklight, myself. I'm not sure whether you're more or less likely to suffer a horrific death in a botched experiment here."

Runa giggled. "Oh, we have plenty of those, believe me. Sissel set fire to Master J'Zargo the other day - the Hall of Elements still smells like singed fur."

"Runa," Serana said, her smile fading. "How long has it been since...well, you know."

She swallowed past a lump in her throat before responding. "Four years."

"I thought you looked a little older," Teldryn spoke, moving beside Serana to rest a hand on Runa's shoulder. "Always hard to tell with you non-elves. I take my eyes off you for one second, and you sprout up like an emperor parasol. Come on, let's sit down somewhere."

Runa led them to a stone bench not far from the summoning circle. Even though Serana had said they were underground, Teldryn could still hear the wind howling outside. The stone ceiling dripped in several places, and frigid water formed small puddles all around the chamber.

"Sorry I couldn't find a nicer place to summon you," Runa said, smiling weakly. "I haven't learned enough yet to do so without using the Forge." Teldryn and Serana sat down with Runa squeezed between them.

Serana marveled. "Still, at your age; you're what, sixteen or seventeen now?"

"Seventeen in Rain's Hand." Runa rested her head on Teldryn's shoulder. _Sheogorath's beard, how tall she's grown._

"Simply incredible. I don't think I'd even summoned my first scamp before I was twenty. What about you, Teldryn?"

He drawled, "We Dunmer like to take it easy for the first couple of decades, dear. I'd never so much as thrown a ball of magelight before my early thirties."

"Hmm. I'm not sure you can just make laziness a Dunmer cultural trait just to explain your slow progress."

Runa nodded. "There's a Dark Elf girl in my class who Master Neloren says is an Illusion protégé. She can't be much older than I am."

"Ah yes, I do remember _this_. You two did always like to join forces against me." Teldryn huffed in mock indignation. "Don't expect me to sink to your level, you not-so-little scrib."

Serana rolled her eyes. "That's his insufferable way of admitting defeat. You'll see he hasn't changed a bit, Runa."

The little mage smiled. "No. No he hasn't."

"Can you show us around your school? I've only seen the Arcanaeum, and I didn't get to hang around for long."

"I...I don't think you can leave the chamber. And the summoning doesn't last for very long; just a few minutes more. I'm just not strong enough. But soon, I promise. Soon I'll be powerful enough to save you both."

Teldryn and Serana exchanged a look. _Oh no. My poor, poor little Runa._

He suddenly saw the shadowed and secluded chamber around them in a new light. "Runa. Please don't tell me you've done all this just for us. If you'd wasted four years of your short life just to get a glimpse of my wretched old hide...I think it'd break my heart, darling."

"No." Runa took a quick breath, and steadied her voice. "No - I like magic, and I'm good at it. I've made friends: Sissel, Tahar'dar, Shelur...I have a life here, Teldryn. I'm not some obsessed witch living out in a remote cave."

"That is no small relief." He sighed. "But what's set you on this fool quest? Messing around with the dead isn't wise. That's not just Dunmer superstition talking, either. When I travelled with your father, I saw no end to the depravities of necromancers. I'm sure Serana could tell you similar stories from her father's court."

"If you don't understand why I'm doing this, I'll never be able to explain it to you." Runa stood and turned away from them, her arms crossed.

Serana bit her lip. "Try to help us understand. Did Jax ask you to do this?"

The thought stunned Teldryn, but it made sense after a moment's pondering. He and Serana had gone through Oblivion itself and faced off with more than one Daedric Prince in order to bring the Dragonborn back from the dead. It was all too easy to imagine his foolish old friend trying to return the favor.

Runa took a long moment to respond. "No. _He_ said I should just let you rest. Easy for him to say, up on the Throat of the World with nothing to do but shovel snow and talk to monks. I couldn't just sit here and do nothing when I have the power to bring you back."

 _The Throat of the World, eh? Right where I left him._ Teldryn chuckled. "Jax is alive, then. You've already done much for us by telling us this, Runa. I left a little of my heart behind on those slopes; I think we both did. Not knowing if stepping in front of that fire-breathing fetcher even made a lick of difference..."

"You mean you didn't know?" Her voice cracked. "By the Nine. You've spent years in that wasteland, without even knowing if it had all been worth it. This just shows why it's so important that I help you escape."

"Escape to where, sera?" He shared another worried look with Serana, and they both stood and moved to flank Runa again. "We don't belong here, no matter how much you want it to be so."

"You pulled father back from Oblivion. Why is it okay if _you_ do it, but not _me_? You don't think I love you as much as you loved him? You don't think..."

"Shh, dear." Teldryn took her clenched fists in his cold hands and pulled her close. She wept into his chest, and for a second he was transported back four years: he was back in that farmhouse outside Whiterun, holding Runa as she shed tears for the Dragonborn and the assassin Nazir looked down at them with a bloody dagger in his hand. "I did miss you, more than you can know. Our shared years were the brightest of my long life; but everything has to come to an end, Runa. Serana and I were fortunate enough to be able to depart at our own choosing."

Serana smiled sadly. "We were lucky. Not everyone gets to die in a blaze of dragonfire to save the High Queen of Skyrim and the Dragonborn."

"L-Lucky?" Runa hiccupped. "I-I _know_ what happens in Coldharbour. I've read books. Torture, forever and ever. Atronachs, Dremora, rumbling engines of eternal agony..."

"Now, now." He gently pulled her hood back and stroked her long hair. "It's not nearly as awful as all that."

“You’re just saying that...so I won’t worry. I’m not some naïve little girl anymore.” 

“Come on,” Serana said softly, “have you ever known the great Teldryn Sero to soften the truth for anyone’s benefit? Think about it. If there was something to complain about, you and I and half of Coldharbour would have heard about it by now.” 

Teldryn sniffed. “Loathe as I am to admit it, she’s right.” 

Runa bit her lip. “At least let me find you someplace better to spend your afterlives. I’ve heard of people being cured of lycanthropy after death; their souls were allowed to leave Hircine’s realm! Maybe I can do the same for you two.” 

“Hmm. That may not be the worst idea in the world.” Teldryn saw the conflict in Serana’s expression. “Unless you have an objection, dear?” 

Serana smiled tightly. “Unless a lot has changed since we died, I don’t think the Aedra are in the habit of letting you pick and choose where you end up after death. I’d probably end up in Sovngarde - ugh. I’m not even sure where Dunmer go.” 

“Any plane of existence without you,” he said, sliding an arm around her shoulder, “is nowhere I want to be. At least in Coldharbour we have each other's company."

His niece wrung her hands in despair. "Then there's nothing I can do. I'm just meant to live with the knowledge that you're both going to spend eternity in Coldharbour, and I'll never see you again. Wonderful."

"Let's not be so hasty, now." Teldryn looked around the cold chambers with a glint of inspiration in his eyes. "When's the next time you'll be able to summon us, Runa?"

* * *

And so it came to pass that every Sundas, Teldryn and Serana were pulled from their tower in Coldharbour to share an evening with Runa Fair-Shield underneath the College of Winterhold. More than a few of the mages were interested in recording the experiences of two vampires from Molag Bal's realm, so Runa received more than enough donations in supplies to ensure she would be able to continue the ritual for years to come. Her friends even helped bring some light and warmth into the chambers of the Atronach Forge; by the time of their second visit, Teldryn could scarcely reconcile the well-furnished room he stepped into with his initial memory of the decrepit and dirty summoning chambers. The fire here produced actual warmth, and though his appreciation for their Coldharbour home did not wane, Teldryn was certainly grateful for the weekly change in venue.

"No doubt you'll grow tired of us in time," he joked on their fourth visit, tousling Runa's hair. They were all reclining before the fire as a veritable blizzard raged outside. "Still, these chambers are a nice investment. The Arch-Mage can stuff a few miserable novices down here and save some coin."

"Don't even say things like that," Runa warned, her tone serious as death. "I'm going to keep summoning you until I'm an old woman, and by then maybe I'll finally understand what you're always whining about. And then I'll pass the ritual down to my children, and they'll pass it down to their children!"

Serana grinned. "So we'll be the family vampires, huh? That's certainly some tradition. I just hope you never have an ancestor that expects us to do anything but lay around and annoy them."

Teldryn chuckled. But his mind lingered on Runa's promise, and as he stared into the living fire he kept his experience and cynicism at bay and allowed himself, if only for a moment, to believe - to indulge in that rare and precious fire that Coldharbour had so wholly set itself against: the fire of hope. _For Runa's sake, against reason and knowledge and better judgement, I hope._


End file.
